


Nothing better than a daily fix

by headraline



Series: Detroit: Become Human Prompts [21]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: "Jesus Christ Connor!", Consensual Sex, Healthy sex, I did say disaster gays, I feel like I'm on a marathon, Lust at First Sight, M/M, RK1000 - Freeform, Sexual Content, and disaster gays, but with rk1k, discord made me do it, fluff for days, handyman!markus, human!AU, this is basically porn with fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 04:44:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headraline/pseuds/headraline
Summary: Connor gets stuck at his father's house waiting for the repair people to come install the new boiler.» Red alert!!! Incredibly hot guy in the house, I have no idea how to deal!...he gets more than he bargained for.





	Nothing better than a daily fix

**Author's Note:**

> ONCE AGAIN Y'ALL HAVE LISA AND AMIKO TO THANK FOR THIS.
> 
> It was also crapped out in roughly six hours, from just after lunch until now, so don't expect too much out of it.
> 
> We're just having fun.  
> Fuck my arms hurt.
> 
> I'mma go do some stretching now.
> 
> Pls love me.

Hank is not the type to ask for help from… anyone, really, but sometimes he finds himself in situations he can’t quite escape from. Like being a police Lieutenant on duty while simultaneously having a broken boiler in his house –the repairmen he had the assessment done with are coming back and he’s not gonna be home for the whole goddamn day.

Luckily for him, he’s been blessed with a dutiful son, that only occasionally takes personal pleasure in sassing him until he wants to punch himself in the face.

He picks up his phone and makes the call –if anything, the kid will be happy to know he’s finally giving in and letting a professional look at the blasted thing.

 

Connor should have known better than to answer his father’s call on a day off. He was so looking forward to check out the new sushi place across the street, and instead…

_“Do me this solid, kiddo; you know how shifts at the precinct work… you just have to be there to open the door so the repair people can get in!”_

Apparently, Hank’s old boiler has broken down, _again_ , and finally his old man caved and called a handyman service to replace it, rather than just ‘figuring shit out himself’. Thing is, the only open slot was for today, and Hank has to be at the precinct for the whole morning and the better part of the afternoon.

It’s not easy being a cop. Harder still when you’re a Lieutenant and they expect double from you.

“Fine… I’ll head there right now.” Hank isn’t getting any younger, and winter in Detroit is cold and miserable. The quicker his house regains proper heating, the better Connor himself will feel.

He takes his phone, laptop and keys and prepares himself bright and early for a boring day of waiting around and overseeing work.

Maybe he’ll be able to get some revising done, in the meantime.

It’s almost 10 by the time the doorbell rings; and Connor puts down his phone –he was texting with North, too bored to just sit in the living room but not focused enough to actually study. Getting up with a sigh, he goes to open the door, mentally preparing himself to endure the presence of some grouchy, old—

“Good morning, sir. I’m scheduled to replace your boiler today.”

—most gorgeous creature he’s ever seen, all broad shoulders, buzz-cut hair and long legs.

Holy shit.

Connor has half a mind to call Hank right now and ask him if this is some sort of prank, because this guy looks nothing like a handyman and every bit like a stripper.

The blue polo is strained enough against his pecs to be more of an _insult_ than a garment of clothing, the utility belt seems to just be there to accentuate his hips and— _oh, sweet baby Jesus,_ Connor just straight up dropped his eyes to a stranger’s crotch.

He smacks a hand against his face, clearing his voice and hoping to high heaven that this either happens to this guy a lot, or that it went unnoticed altogether. “Um, yes. Hello.”

“Hank Anderson?”

The very idea of being mistaken for his old man is enough to ease some of the dumbstruck stupor off— Connor bursts into laughter. “God, no.” he says, “I’m Connor. His son. Nice to meet you, uh..?”

Hot Handyman seems lost in thought for a second, but he blinks himself out of it to take Connor’s offered hand. “Oh! Markus. Nice to meet you!”

Good heavens, this guy has one green eye and one blue one.

No way in hell this is real.

“So, uh… Connor. Could you let me inside?”

Oh he would let him inside alright— _shit,_ he means inside the _house_. Right.

Fuck, he really needs to get a grip. “S-sure! I have no idea where anything is, I was just here to wait for you and open the door, but… come on in!”

Hot Handyman — _Markus_ , he told Connor his name and has a freaking nametag on his chest— walks into the house and Connor half expects _Boombastic_ to start playing out of nowhere, but no, by all means this guy seems legit. He takes a look at all the radiators, makes his way into the bathroom brushing his free hand against the walls and looking at the ceilings the whole time as if following the pipelines.

“Okay… pipework seems pretty standard.” Markus is most likely mumbling to himself, because Connor has trouble being able to tell through the walls. “Let’s see the problem.”

The toolbox he was carrying makes a very heavy ‘thump’ noise when Markus sets it down on the tile floor. Connor is pretty sure he’s going to hell just for the thoughts the visible strain in the handyman’s arms sent to his brain.

Mobile phone still in hand, he does the only sensible thing, while Markus pulls out a clipboard –likely the assessment results from last week to consult and see where to start from: he texts North again.

 _»_ _Red alert!!! Incredibly hot guy in the house, I have no idea how to deal!_

 _»_ _Weren’t you at your dad’s place waiting 4 the boiler people? Tf?_

It obviously gets worse before he can even reply. Since the first problems started with the sink, Markus tries turning the hot water on.

The tap sputters emptily for a second, before something makes a spitting noise and an angry blast of water sprays the man all over.

“Oh, shit, I should’ve warned you—” Connor barely has the time to be mortified and grab a towel, while the other just chuckles.

“I don’t get it; your shower seems to be working fine to me!”

So he’s hot _and_ funny. Connor feels his lips curl up into a smile without thinking— shit, is he staring again?

“Thank you.”

Well, at least his body’s autopilot is efficient enough to actually hand the poor man a towel: Markus is, for lack of a better term, completely drenched from the belly up, which makes the whole situation even more surreal. It literally is starting to look like something right out of a porn movie.

Markus towels himself off as good as he can and attempts to wring off as much water as he can from is shirt without taking it off all the way… _too bad_ , a part of Connor muses when he gets a glimpse of toned amber skin and _freckles_.

_» Connor, u still there?!_

Licking his lips, he does something he’s not proud of. He sneaks a picture of Markus as he digs through his tools and snaps it to North with the caption:

_» I don’t know what he’s fixing, but mine just broke_

It takes a few seconds for her to reply, but when she does it’s a slew of laughing emojis and a _“Go get some of that tall glass of water, you thirst queen!”_

“You’re a popular guy.” Markus’ comment nearly startles Connor into dropping the phone.

“I-it’s nothing. Just a friend from the police academy.”

He doesn’t realize he specified that for the exact purpose of impressing Markus until the other’s eyebrows actually rise in interest. “So you’re training to be in the force?”

Connor shrugs and nods. “You know how it is… dad’s a cop. His dad before him was a cop… and so forth and so on…”

For someone so good-looking that it turned Connor in a wound-up ball of nerves and thirst, Markus is actually a pretty easy guy to talk to. They make conversation while the handyman checks the sink tap for damage or obstructions; and Connor tells Markus about his dream of being a hostage negotiator while Markus mentions working as a handyman to pay his way through art school.

Finding the sink structurally sound, Markus sighs and lifts his toolbox again. “Well.” He says, “Let’s get this party to the messy part. You know where I can access the attic from?”

Connor guides Markus to the laundry room and offers to clear out most of the junk in there so he can work comfortably. It gets progressively harder not to stare, because Markus’ drenched shirt is drying _on_ his body; and in this cold, in a house with no working heating, it leads to a very predictable situation.

Still, for once he’s actually having a good time talking to a stranger; so Connor tries not to let his instant attraction to Markus ruin this for him— the other is friendly, professional and has the kindest smile Connor has ever seen. The _least_ Connor can do is offer him the same courtesy.

“Okay, from now until the next—” Markus briefly interrupts himself to glance at his watch, “—three hours, I’m going to make some truly godawful noise while I disassemble the old boiler and prep the pipework for the new one. Then we wait for my colleague to drive in the new one and we set it up together. I suggest you boot up that laptop, get some headphones and watch the loudest movie you can.”

“You got it.” Connor steps back into the living room with a chuckle, when the other’s voice calls him back:

“Hey, Connor!” Markus has assembled his drill, now holding it like one would a rifle as he pauses on the climb to the attic. His voice lowers and takes on a dramatic tone: “If I’m not out in three hours, go on without me. _Save yourself_!”

No matter how good-looking the man is; that was such a dork thing to do that it sends Connor into giggles. He attempts to sober up and carry on with the joke. “Nonsense! We will leave no man behind!”

“Please, I need to know you made it out alive!”

Connor loses it even more. “Enough with the action hero bullshit, get to work!” he chastises, if only to get that gorgeous goof out of sight so he can catch his breath.

Markus’ parting words are “Sir yes, sir!” and a wink that resumes the absolutely filthy thoughts Connor was having at first sight.

Demolition sounds are indeed not fun, and Connor finds himself having a Knights of the Black Death marathon just to drown out the grinding, the hammering, and other various screeching, horrible metal and stone noises. He sits comfily on Hank’s couch in his sweatpants and his DPTA sweater; he actually manages to go over his notes for the Criminal Science course _and_ compare with North via text… for all of twenty minutes, before the conversation goes back to Markus.

_» so where’s Hot Handyman?_

_» working, he’s a real handyman apparently._

_» D I S A P P O I N T E D ! you haven’t jumped him yet?_

_» that’s inappropriate and unprofessional! I shouldn’t interfere with his job._

_» fuck, you’re so boring… but fair’s fair. Just promise you’ll suggest a break and at LEAST get his number?_

Connor smiles at his phone. Look at his best friend, still being a kick ass wing-woman even at a distance.

_» I’ll try._

_» Atta boy!_

 

Connor only turns his head to look towards the laundry room when Markus emerges from the attic and _holy fuck_. There’s wall dust on the floor, more dust blowing out from the attic in Markus’ wake, and several pieces of… stuff and debris have been dismantled and brought down.

Markus himself is covered in dust and black grease up to his elbows.

“I know. It looks like there was an apocalypse… but I promise we’re gonna clear all this stuff out.”

Now… Connor never was one for stereotype, but… he looks even hotter like that.

North is right. He’s a fool if he passes up this chance.

“So…” he clears his voice, “Now what?”

Markus rubs a hand at his forehead, trying and failing to rub out a stain. “Now if that’s okay with you I’m going to use the kitchen sink to clean myself up a bit, then we wait for my colleague to come in with the truck and the new boiler. Clear out all this crap and get back to work. With two people, we’ll be done much quicker. Then I’ll just have to come back and double check that the radiators work.”

“How long will that be?”

“Barring traffic or natural calamities, about twenty minutes—”

For once, a phone that isn’t Connor’s buzzes loudly. It startles both of them enough that Markus fumbles to answer it.

“Simon!” he says, seemingly having expected the call, “Yeah, I prepped everything; we’re just waiting for you.” A pause. “What?!” Oh, that didn’t sound good. Markus lets out an exasperated sigh and checks his watch again, “No, it’s fine. Do what you gotta do; a little overtime won’t kill me.” Another pause. “Yeah, don’t sweat it. I’ll be here.”

“So… I’m guessing your colleague is going to be a little late?” Connor is training to be a detective, after all, it would have been embarrassing not to put the pieces together from the clues he had –especially considering how expressive Markus is, gesturing with his arms, pacing back and forth…

A pleasure to watch, really.

It’s Markus’ turn to clear his voice awkwardly. “Yeah, apparently there’s some roadwork or other blocking his way, and he’s got to double back and take a stupid detour…”

“How much longer?”

“He couldn’t say, but at least twice the time we were hoping for.”

The effort not to sound too happy is Herculean. “It’s okay, Markus.” Connor assures with a smile as he gets up from the couch and guides the other to the kitchen, “Not like I have any appointments for the day.”

That’s when it happens. Markus steps closer to him, crowding him slightly in the doorway and leaning a hand on the wall behind him. “No? Guy like you, I’d have thought you’d need to fight admirers off with a stick.”

Connor’s brain goes into overdrive. _That was flirting!_ His mind screams at him. _That was so totally flirting. You have a chance! Don’t fuck this up!_

His inner conscience sounds uncannily like North.

“You’d be surprised.” He says, smiling at the other with just a hint of bitterness, “Cop school doesn’t leave you much free time.”

“You’ve chosen a hard career. That’s admirable.”

“Well… not many guys out there who would put up with my schedule.” In one fell swoop, Connor has let Markus know that he’s into guys _and_ single. Huh. Maybe North _is_ right, and he just needs the right motivation to be a bit more… outgoing.

Markus is smiling widely at him now, then his teeth catch his bottom lip –Connor’s eyes diligently follow the movement. “…Their loss.” He says, voice dropping slightly, “The best things in life are the ones that are hard to put up with.”

This is _undeniably_ flirting. Connor brings a hand up to run it through his own hair and inadvertently smacks Markus on the chest, which seems to make the handyman notice just now how close exactly they had gotten. It makes him take a step back and cough awkwardly.

“That was, uh… not my place to say. Sorry.” A stark difference to the seductive confidence of literally ten seconds ago, but it tells Connor something important: Markus worries about making _him_ uncomfortable. About whether or not Connor would think he’s stepping over the line. He’s not only hot and funny, he’s also _considerate_. Stick a fork in him, Connor’s _done_. “I’ll just… wash this off, then.”

Walking off the doorway and into the kitchen, Markus leaves Connor rooted there, watching as he takes off the soaked, dusty shirt and uses the kitchen sink and a rag to try and clean off the worst of the dust and debris from the attic.

By the time he’s done, he is shirtless, cold water running down his toned chest in little droplets, and looking every bit out of one of Connor’s teenage fantasies.

Everything has a limit, and Connor just reached his.

Muffled heavy metal music is still playing on his laptop, but Connor cannot be bothered to take his eyes off Markus to go and stop it.

He follows Markus into the laundry room where they left the towel, and grabs it before the other can.

“Here, let me help you…” he bunches up the towel and starts brushing it gently against Markus’ face. He’d be a liar if he said he doesn’t enjoy the little intake of breath that goes through the other’s mouth at the sudden proximity.

For all his talk and attitude, Markus is surprisingly shy. He just stands there, letting Connor towel him off as if unsure of how much he’s _allowed_ to do before the spell breaks. Connor can relate— he himself can’t quite believe he’s actually going for it.

Connor’s other hand comes to rest on Markus’ shoulder and, finally, something sets in motion between them: Markus doesn’t say a word, but keeps looking at him in the eye even as he grabs the towel out of Connor’s hand and discards it on the floor.

It’s a slow, torturously hesitant thing, but they lean into each other and eventually their lips meet. A quick peck at first, then another, lips barely parting against each other, then Markus opens his mouth for Connor and bites slightly at the other’s lower lip.

From there, it’s a domino effect.

Connor wraps both arms around Markus’ neck and deepens their kiss, wasting no time in getting his tongue acquainted with the other’s as he step forward until he hears Markus’ back hit the wall.

It’s every bit as delicious as he was imagining for the most part of the morning. Markus has freckles all over his chest and Connor can’t wait to get his tongue all over his skin.

Markus’ hand dives through his hair and he lets out a groan, muffled by their mouths still locked together, his fingers instinctively curling for a moment, leaving red trails down Markus’ torso in their downward journey.

The utility belt hits the floor with a thunk. Markus kicks it to the side; and Connor smiles against his lips.

His DPTA sweater is the next thing to go.

“Well… wow.” The difference of color in Markus’ eyes becomes all the more evident as they darken in arousal. It drives Connor crazy how pretty they are.

“What?”

“Nothing, I, uh… didn’t expect you to be so built under there.”

Yeah, no one ever does. “I’m doing anti-riot training this semester.” He explains, even as he leans back in to be nose to nose again.

“Are you, now?” Markus tugs him closer still by the string of his sweatpants, tilting his head to the side to speak against Connor’s cheek. “Does that mean you could… subdue me?”

Something in Connor’s mind comes to a screeching halt, before his arousal redoubles thanks to the feeling of Markus grinding forward into him. Up to this point, everything about Markus had been screaming _‘top’_ ; and Connor was fully expecting to be thrown down and fucked until he sang like a goddamn soprano –and he wouldn’t have minded that one bit, but this… this might be even _more_ inviting.

Most guys always feel emasculated at being topped by the pretty one with the angel-face… but instead here Markus is, apparently turned on by that same idea.

“I mean…” he manages to breathe out, “If you want me to…”

“We can do this either way, I don’t mind...” Markus whispers, hot and low against his skin, “But trust me, I _want you to_.”

This guy is entirely too good to be true. Connor fears he’ll wake up any moment and find out he fell asleep at his laptop while revising. “Wait here.”

He takes literally twenty seconds to go to his room and rummage through his backpack –he went out with North a few evenings ago, and she kept trying to get him laid, so he’s pretty sure she slipped at least a few supplies in the outside pocket— there.

Markus chuckles amusedly when he sees Connor return with his prize. “As if I wouldn’t trust a future policeman.” He jokes even as the other hands him the small square and gets busy undoing his jeans.

“Humor me.” Is all Connor says, licking his lips in anticipation. He slips one hand underneath the waistband of Markus’ boxers and _holy fuck_ , he needs to leave an impression and get this guy’s number, because as appetizing as the idea of fucking Markus into the floor sounds, he’ll _definitely_ want a turn on _that._

Then Markus’ hands slip into his sweatpants and Connor forgets how to breathe for a second. This is actually happening. Markus’ skin is rough and calloused by hard work, but he’s surprisingly gentle as he teases him to full attention, before pulling down the sweatpants to have room to slip the condom on him.

It’s usually an uncomfortable and annoying process, but Markus distracts him by kissing him slow and deep, before pulling away with a smile Connor would arrest him for, if he already had his badge.

“So… how do you want me, _officer_?”

“Oh, so we’re doing this, now?” Connor’s eyebrow shoots up at Markus’ teasing. All things considered, it’s not something for everyone’s taste… but the mischievous smirk on the other’s mouth makes it apparent that he’s equal parts actually turned on _and_ messing with him. “Turn around. Both forearms to the wall.”

Markus lets out a low giggle as he complies; and Connor can’t help but drink in the sight.

The other’s back is broad and covered in freckles, the curve of his ass so perfect it looks like it was sculpted out of marble… Connor leans forward and kneels to lower Markus’ jeans the rest of the way –he gets an idea and smirks, when he happens to be at eye-level with that masterpiece.

Markus jumps slightly when he feels Connor give an affectionate little bite to one of his buttocks. “What—”

“Your fault for looking good enough to eat.” He says, revelling in the other’s chuckle and the way Markus’ whole body arches under his touch when Connor comes back up to stand behind him.

“I hope you will do more than just that…”

This little _shit._

“How much preparation do you need?”

“Did you feel my hands after I slipped that thing on you?” Markus answers the question with a chuckle and a roll of his shoulders, “I’m a big boy. You’re good to go.”

To his credit, the condom they’re using was pretty heavily lubricated, so they really shouldn’t have many problems. Still, both of Markus’ fists tighten and he lowkey punches the wall while Connor enters him, as slowly as he can take it.

“Shit…”

Connor takes the time to gradually bury himself all the way in, until he’s flush against Markus and can pepper the nape of his neck with little encouraging kisses. His voice is a whisper against the other’s cool skin: “Tell me when you’re good to move.”

Markus takes a few deep breaths before he eventually nods at Connor. “I’m good.”

“You sure?” Connor starts slowly rocking back and forth, holding Markus at the hip with one hand and keeping the other one splayed over his shoulder-blades. That, apparently, actually makes him throw his head back with a moan.

“ _Yes!_ For the love of _God_ , you’re killing me here; _give it to me like you mean it_!”

Well. How to refuse such a request? He starts moving faster and harder, and is rewarded with a series of gasps and moans that do absolutely filthy things to his brain. The hand he was holding on Markus’ back caresses his way around to the front, finding purchase on a supple pectoral muscle.

 _Fuck_ , this guy is built like a Greek God and he’s letting Connor pound him into a wall. “Fuck…” his brain isn’t coherent for much else. He picks up the pace, just to see if he can get Markus to be louder.

“God! Shit, _Connor_ …” He can.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees one of Markus’ hands slip off the wall and travel downwards. It might be the mood or just the other’s attitude pulling his cheekier side out, but Connor intercepts the hand, grabbing Markus by the wrist and slamming the arm back on the wall.

“If you need more…” he breathes against the skin of Markus’ neck, “You can tell me what you need, and I’ll do it for you…”

“Oh, _fuck…_ ”

He trails little kisses and bites along Markus’ shoulders. “Come on… don’t leave me hanging. Let me hear it… please?”

“I need you to touch me…” Markus is taking cock like a champion and his voice barely wavers, going straight down Connor’s spine in shivers, when he adds: “I need you to make me scream myself _hoarse_.”

 _Shit._ Nobody could resist a demand like that. “Your wish is my command.”

He snakes his hand down Markus’ torso, committing to memory every crevice of his abs before he takes him and starts working his length at the same pace he’s ramming him at.

The chorus of moans that spill from Markus’ mouth are the sweetest sound Connor has ever heard.

“Ah— Connor…” that’s the second time Markus moans his name. It drives him absolutely crazy.

Belatedly, Connor realizes that the other’s face must be priceless to look at right now –it would be a crime to get Markus off like a freight train and not get a good look at his expression as he comes undone.

He hopes Markus won’t hate him too much for slowing down now.

“Wait— wait…”

Both of the man’s hands cover Connor's, in a motion that is both surprised and gentle. “What— what’s going on?”

Markus is breathless and confused, but no part of him is angry –he’d be willing to stop on the off-chance Connor changed his mind. Shit, could he get _any_ more perfect?

“Turn around; I need to look at you.”

The velvety chuckle he gets in return has Connor weak in the knees. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Markus shivers when his naked back touches the tiled floor, but Connor is over him in an instant, hiking his thighs up and leaning down to kiss him.

Yes, this is a much better position. “You’re so goddamn beautiful…”

Both of Markus’ hand caress the back of his head, then travel to his shoulders and down his back… until Markus literally grabs him by the ass to guide him back in.

Connor knows his behind is not nearly as supple as his counterpart’s, but Markus seem more than content to give him a good squeeze all the same. The thought makes him chuckle against the other’s lips.

“Come on, now… we were getting to the part about making me scream.”

They waste no time in picking up where they left off… only, this time Connor can watch as Markus growls, and moans, and arches, biting his lips while not even trying to stifle the sounds spilling from his mouth while Connor rams into him over and over, faster and harder just like the pace he’s jerking him at.

Driven closer and closer to the edge, Markus brings one of his hands up to card through Connor’s hair and pull him in for a kiss. He is shaken with a full-body shudder when he finally comes, involuntarily biting hard on Connor’s lower lip.

Not that he’s complaining— he’s so far gone that Markus could have slapped him across the face and he would have moaned in pleasure. The sensation of Markus riding out his orgasm under him is insane, it drives him out of focus and Connor can barely keep it together enough to keep thrusting at a pace that is so uncoordinated it’s just frantic.

Sated and oversensitive, Markus just tightens his hand on Connor’s hair and his legs around the other’s waist until Connor too is shuddering in tell-tale ecstasy.

“Markus… _Markus…_ ” there are no other words worth knowing in Connor’s mind, for the few following seconds.

The only sound filling the room is their breathing, heavy and shallow as they come down from their high.

“Holy shit…” is the first thing Connor can find the presence of spirit to say.

It drives a small happy chuckle from Markus. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“Markus, I…” it suddenly dawns on Connor: he just had sex with a complete stranger in his father’s house. Sure they used protection and they were both consenting adults, but… “I just want you to know, I don’t usually do this—” He feels the need to get this point across to the other, leaning back slightly and placing both hands on Markus’s chest, “A-and I didn’t think you do, either! I mean, I don’t want to assume— and I don’t want you to think that I… uh…”

“Connor.” Markus’ voice cuts through his ramblings with disarming calm. “It’s okay.” He places both hands over Connor’s and leans slightly forward. “I’m not making any assumptions about you. I’m just thinking that I met an amazing, brilliant, attractive guy, and somehow I got so lucky that he liked me too; and we had a spark.”

They had enough sparks for the entire fucking Fourth of July, in Connor’s humble opinion; but once again what blows his mind is how considerate Markus is being. “I’m just… really not used to— nothing like _this_ ever happened to me, before…”

Once more, Markus’ soft, velvety laugh reaches Connor’s ears. “To be completely honest… I’ve never had such a fast… chemistry, with anyone either, before today.”

Oh, thank goodness. Connor feels much less like an idiot.

“Tell you what.” Markus carries on, “How about we get ourselves cleaned up while we wait for my colleague to bring in the new parts?”

Connor nods, and receives a kiss as a reward. He would’ve thought the afterward would be more awkward, but Markus is all soft words and little jokes, and before he knows it they’re already dressed and back in the kitchen, hands freshly washed as Connor offers him to have a quick bite with whatever he can whip up on the fly.

“Only if you let me help.”

He should probably be more concerned about how much it sounds like they’re already a couple, but his brain is still too full of happy chemicals, and Markus’ smile still makes him want to say yes to anything.

“Hello? Markus?”

When Simon reaches the correct postcode, the door has been left open for him so he lets himself in. He finds his friend and colleague in the living room, leaning down towards a couch and talking in hushed whispers to a pretty guy with brown hair.

“Oh, hey, man! You made it!” Markus snaps at attention and immediately puts a respectable distance between him and Connor.

 _Yeah, nice try, Manfred, but I saw that._ Everything in Simon’s gaze conveys just two words: bitch, please. But, he _is_ Markus’ best friend in the whole wide world, so he keeps his mouth shut. For _now_. “Yeah, the roads where Hell, today. But I got everything in the truck. We good to start?”

“Who do you take me for? Everything’s prepped. Let’s go.” Markus has his arms crossed and a fake outraged expression. He makes to follow Simon out to get what they need, but he doubles back at the last moment to go back to Connor’s side: “We’re gonna start making horrible noise again. You might want to grab those headphones back.”

“Ok.” Without thinking, they exchange a quick peck.

As they unload the pieces for the new boiler from the truck, Simon shakes his head and chuckles. “That was adorable.”

“Shut up, Simon.”

“Come on, dude! I’m your best friend, I know you! Give me the details!”

“Simon I swear to God, I’ll drop this thing on your fucking feet!”

“Touchy…” the blond takes a moment to process the information –but he really does know Markus, and if he’s _this_ protective over a guy he just met… he gasps. “Oh my God, you really like him!”

“Will you keep your fucking voice down? This is unprofessional on _so_ many levels!”

They both know Markus doesn’t give a fuck about that and he’s just being shy. Still… Simon humors him and shuts up.

Yeah, _best_ friend in the whole wide world.

He even behaves while they make small talk with Connor during set up, pretending _not_ to know Markus probably went to town on him or vice versa; and soon enough they get to work.

 

It’s late afternoon by the time they’re done, coming back down from the attic and into the bathroom to check the taps.

“Moment of truth…”

Markus opens the hot water tap in the bathroom sink, and it finally flows normally— it still sputters a little because the pipework is still settling and air bubbles will have to come out the hard way, but it’s working.

“Awww…” Connor sounds almost disappointed. “You know, I almost hoped it would drench your shirt again.”

He’s kinda forgotten Markus’ colleague is also here now.

Mismatched eyes shine in mischief at him all the same. “You know, you only have to ask.”

“I’m uh… going to finish loading the truck.” Simon truly is the best. “Scuse me…”

Connor watches the blond leave and fixes a _look_ on Markus. “So… we weren’t as subtle as we hoped.”

“Not even remotely.”

“I’m blaming you.” He says, taking enough steps forward to grab at the hem of Markus’ shirt and tug him in.

Markus lets himself be kissed without complaint, taking it as slow and languid as Connor wants to give it.

“Yeah… yeah, that’s fair.” He leans his forehead against Connor’s and says nothing for a moment.

He doesn’t need to, the other speaks first:

“So… this is it, huh?”

“Well… I’ll be in tomorrow to check that the radiators are working properly…” Markus doesn’t move his face from where it’s resting against Connor’s, but still plucks one of his business cards and his pen from his utility belt. “But… I don’t know about you, but I’ve never felt anything like this before. If you— if today was… _something_ for you as well…” He pushes the small paper into Connor’s hands, covering them with both of his. “Maybe we could meet up. Somewhere nice, where we can take our time.”

In any other context, it would be a rather bold move… but considering Markus and him just had sex on the laundry room floor; the trainee detective can see how it would feel natural to ask him out.

He’s actually so damn happy he could touch the fucking sky. “Yes… yes, I’d like that.”

_“Markus! Come on, dude, I’m trying to be a pal here, but we gotta go!!!”_

It would seem that even saints have a limit to their patience. Both Connor and Markus burst into laughter.

“I should go, before he decides to abandon my ass here.”

Oh, such a low hanging fruit. “For what it’s worth, your ass will _always_ find a place here.”

“You’re awful.” Markus is still smiling at him.

“You love it.”

“I do.”

 

The next day, Hank is quite surprised to hear absolutely no grumbling from Connor about how much of a waste of time it was, to have spent the day doing errands for his old man instead of focusing on his studies, and he’s even more surprised to find his son bright and early at his door come morning.

“Don’t you have class today?”

Connor just smiles at him, the pure picture of innocence. Hank _instantly_ knows his son is up to _no good_. “None before 12 PM. I thought I’d do you a favor and let you go to work on time, I can stay here and open the door for the contractors again.”

Just like that? Not only without complaint, but out of his own free will? Something is definitely wrong. He’s barely closed the door behind Connor that the doorbell rings.

“Hank Anderson? My name is Markus, this is my colleague Simon, we’re just following up on yesterday’s work—”

All it takes is _one_ look. Hank knows his son all too well. “Oh. I _get it_.” he turns to his son and, sure enough, Connor’s got the stupidest, most lovey-dovey look Hank’s ever seen. “Jesus Christ, Connor...”

Markus blinks, not really catching on. “Did I say something wrong?”

Hank closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in and out. “Nah. Do what you gotta do.”

Despite Connor offering to stay behind, Hank still remains at home for the duration of the check –it doesn’t take that long anyway, and the people at the precinct know he was expecting contractors in his home; Fowler will cut him some slack for once.

He’s gotta make sure that this dude is treating his son right.

His luck being what it is, that backfires on him when he grabs his keys, going to step out; and finds Connor leaning against the open front door and this Markus guy kissing him like there’s a treasure down his throat.

“ _Fuck’s sake,_ kiddo!”

Hank should’ve fucking stayed in bed.

Oh, well.

At least his boy looks happy— he hadn’t seen Connor laugh like that in a while, he isn’t even embarrassed at having been caught…

…and they’re still holding hands.

 _Fine_. He can give this guy a chance. “You know what? I don’t wanna know.” He grumbles, with a resigned shake of the head, “Just… no sex in _my_ place.”

Connor’s signature puppy eyes are cancelled out by the barely restrained laughter breaking his voice. “It, uh… it might be a little late for that.”

 _“Jesus Christ,_ Connor!!!”

 _Definitely_ should’ve fucking stayed in bed.

He still goes to work with a smile.


End file.
